A Mindfulness Retreat in Teething

Zen Master Ethan: aged 9.5 months

For the last few days, my Zen Master (aka son Ethan, aged 9.5months) has been teething. By day, you wouldn't notice anything different. He goes about his play, flashes us his trademark grin before crawling with glee towards a toy/target of choice. But as the afternoon draws closer, there are cracks in the Zen Master's facade. He fights his naps with unhappy grizzling. He even pushes away his bottle or the spoon of baby puree (a sure sign that something is wrong because Ethan is the kind of baby who wolfs down his food with sheer zeal).

Things get worse when the dreaded 5pm rolls around. By now, the Zen Master is definitely Not Happy, Jan. He tails my ankles and tugs at my pants, wanting to be picked up. Um... sure if it weren't for the fact that I was trying to make dinner. So begins the game of distractions. Look Ethan, it's Peppa Pig! Look at this metal dish and plastic spoon - isn't it fantastic? Oh wow, we haven't played with the colourful plastic blocks for aaaagggeeesss! Then sheepishly, I sneak away and continue with making dinner (uh, where was I again?!) while my Zen Master frowns at the sad-excuse-of-a-distraction I've set down before him. We both know it's a poor replacement for what he really wanted - Me.

“Watching teething babies is like watching over a thermonuclear reactor--it is best done in shifts, by well-rested people.” ― Anthony Doerr, Four Seasons in Rome: On Twins, Insomnia, and the Biggest Funeral in the History of the World

The mood momentarily improves when Dad walks through the front door. Both Ethan and I are grinning ear-to-ear (okay, I'm so overjoyed I'm practically doing a jig) as Ethan eagerly crawls for a hug from his Da-Da. The three of us share dinner but the excitement is finally too much for the Zen Master and he begins to lose it. He's finally buggered and since he's no longer playing and exploring the house, he's become all-too-aware of the bother of his new tooth. It's such a pressing matter that he cries for Mum (*sigh* yep, that's me) and Dad to fix it A.S.A.P. So dutifully, I pull out the children's panadol and teething gel and administer both, neither of which do much to placate the unhappy grizzling that's filling the small rooms of our house. I sing nursery rhymes, play quiet hand-games, look through picture books, (yep, I'm pulling out every trick I know and beginning to sweat as I dig dangerously close to the bottom of that bag) but still I can't get my Zen Master to sleep. Craig tries to calm Ethan down with quiet soothing words but our Zen Master isn't having a bar of it. He fitfully collapses into unconsciousness and it's not long before us-exhausted-parents join him there.

But of course, babies and their parents don't sleep when there's teeth on the way. It's not long before our slumber is shattered with an ear-piercing cry and one of us trudges out of the bed (whoever can find the most energy) to reassure Ethan that all is well. But this isn't one of those nights where a simple butt-pat and cuddle will fix everything. It's more of a process that takes anywhere from 30mins to an hour and when Ethan finally does go back to sleep, it's usually in our bed and he becomes sandwiched between his two zombie parents. When Ethan stirs and cries, we both stir with him. Even when he's sleeping, one of us will get kicked or unexpectedly flailed in the face, comical if it weren't for the fact that neither of us have had a decent block of sleep in over a week. Oh and did I mention that teething babies do a lot of diarrhoea poo? That normally wouldn't break me, until today that is, when I discovered that the poo had also leaked from his nappy and run down the inside of his pants. Thankfully, it was a Sunday and Craig was on hand to take Ethan aside while I had a teary sulk of 'Why, why me?'

When you can do nothing, what can you do? - Zen Koan

Maybe you're beginning to wonder where exactly my Buddhist practice fitted into all this? Sadly, when the Zen Master doesn't sleep, there's little energy to invest in sitting meditation. Instead, what I've discovered is that when your baby is teething, your practice is kicked into Hard-Core Mindfulness Bootcamp. It's 24/7 in mindfulness training and the reminder ain't no peaceful *ting* of a tranquil tibetan bell, but the loud, intense cry of your baby. In this bootcamp, there are no scheduled time-outs. You don't know when the meditation ends or really, when it began. You never voluntarily handed over your right to TV, your mobile or reading your favourite book or watching that TV show you liked. It kinda just happened and before you know it, you're neck deep in baby tears, poop, nappy rash & pools of drool. Caring for a teething baby is the ultimate practice for any parent yearning for Enlightenment. It exposes your flaws like no other practice and pushes at your buttons, breaking any pride you might have had in a matter of micro-seconds. You will have to draw on every skill you have ever fostered as a practioner - mantra recitations, sound meditation, loving-kindness meditation, tong-len meditation, sheer simple awareness and maybe even creatively invent an all new meditative practice altogether. And like all retreats, the breakthroughs are not always soft and gentle. There will definitely be tears. But there will be also be insights, to be gleaned at the most unexpected of hours.

And as abruptly as the mindfulness retreat began, it ends. The Zen Master finally sleeps soundly. A serene expression returns to his baby face. There is a glimmer of white through those sore red gums. Predictability once more makes its way back into our home. At least, until the next tooth makes its appearance.

To all the parents, carers and brothers & sisters of a teething baby, to all their neighbours too; may you have sleep. May you be happy. May you be well. May your hearts open in its own rightful time and supportively hold all in your household in the boundless compassion, wisdom and love of Buddhahood.

Until next time, lots of love, Demi.

PS - Happy Birthday Your Holiness!! Seeing your face on TV, Google & Dharma Books always reminds me to smile and be happy. You're a fantastic inspiration for joyous effort so Thank you!